I am your Mother &  your Father.

I am your Daughter & your Lover.

I am life, death & time eternal.

I am the cup & the sword.

I am the right and the left hand path.

 

You have no power but what comes from me.

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It’s late morning and I lay there, sprawled upon my bed, irritated by the constricting heavy mucous that has taken residence in my chest.  I can hear Herding Stars and The SunGod on the back patio. It’s the barking hour.  A particularly joyous time of day, if you happen to be a dog.

So much for coveting an extra hour or so of sleep.  No matter.  Today I woke up tallying my shortcomings not my successes anyhow.  It’s not a particularly productive past time, but it suits my mood.  This monstrous cold is sweeping me under like a rip current and the whole week feels like a lateral swim against the tide.

My inner critic rails against me.  Is it even possible to fill all the roles I have pronounced upon myself?  Devoted Mother. Dutiful Daughter. Responsive Partner. Competitive Student. Dependable Therapist.  Compassionate Volunteer.  Socially Responsible Woman of Faith. … Dog Mistress….

I close my eyes and argue with this vicious inner cynic for a while. It’s exhausting and I once again seek sleep as a refuge.  Just before I finally drift off I hear Tender Warrior playing outside and I smile.  Perhaps it is possible to be the shoreline, not the swimmer, and let each role shape me instead.